


The Gang Gets Hitchcockian

by gaymac (psyfis)



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Rope (1948)
Genre: Alcohol, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Murder, Party, idk what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyfis/pseuds/gaymac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac and Dennis are gay murderers based on Brandon and Phillip from the 1948 Alfred Hitchcock film, Rope. After committing the murder, they have to hide the evidence from the rest of the gang by the skin of their teeth. Mac isn't into it. Dennis is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Crime

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written to be submitted to Always Sunny Big Bang but I'm publishing it chapter by chapter on my own terms instead. A couple brief notes:  
> -Mac is the hardest character to write, in case you notice the inconsistencies. I didn't think he'd be hard but he's hard. He's so hard. He's getting hard as we speak.  
> -The beginning of this is basically a fill-in-the-blank transcript of Rope. I highly recommend that you watch the original film if you want to see the connections. I literally watched this movie twice in a row to make a rough transcript to write off of. And a documentary. Is that plagiarism? There are also some references to other Hitchcock movies. I just really like Rope...  
> I'm not an avid fanfiction writer so I always appreciate constructive criticism! Enjoy!

[MAC AND DENNIS' APARTMENT]  
[6:30 PM]

The man choked out a final scream of desperation as the brittle rope constricted further around his neck, until his lifeless body collapsed into the arms of none other than Mac McDonald and Dennis Reynolds. 

Dennis briefly felt around the man's chest for a pulse, followed by a sigh and a nod.  
"Open it", He insisted, gesturing towards the large wooden chest sitting up against the wall of their living room. Mac hurriedly lifted up the lid of the chest and helped Dennis hoist the body into it. He slammed the lid down over the victim's carcass.  
They stayed frozen in their positions, gasping and leaning on the chest for support.  
Mac sat on the chest and pressed his forehead against Dennis' shoulder. Dennis switched on the lamp sitting on the desk next to the chest.  
"Don't," Mac said, looking down at his hands pressed up against the chest's lid.  
Dennis switched off the lamp.  
"We should..."  
"I know. Not... just yet. Let's stay like this for a second." Mac sighed and took in the warmth of Dennis' presence, like he always had when he was around him, yet this time the cold in his veins ceased to fade.

"Mac, we... don't have a lot of time. It's this dark room that has you all strung out. No one ever really feels safe in the dark. I'll open these." Dennis reeled open the small blinds in their apartment, letting in the comforting sunlight of the always sunny Philadelphia. "Ah, that's much better, see?" He admired the view for a moment. "Nice day out, huh? It's a shame we couldn't have done this in broad daylight. Can't have it all, I guess."

Dennis looked over his shoulder at Mac, who was staring at his shaking hands in a mute state of disbelief. He hurried over to him and grabbed his wrists.

"Better take these off," Dennis slid the matted brown, faux-leather gloves off of Mac's hands. "Could you put these in the top drawer of my dresser? The one with the tapes."  
Mac gained the core strength to stand up and shuffle uneasily into Dennis' bedroom. He heard Dennis rambling on pridefully in the living room.  
"This glass belongs in a museum, don't you think?" Dennis picked up a glass from the dining table and held it up to the light, inspecting the specks and reflections covering it. "The last drink that he ever had... came from this glass. I really think he should have been drinking beer or a Dr. Pepper or something. I don't know. Seems out of his character to drink something as elegant as wine. This isn't even a wine glass..."  
"Out of character to be murdered, too." Mac emerged from Dennis' room, the nausea from his face failing to ease.  
"Ha! Yeah, yeah, I guess you're right. A hardass like him usually dies more ceremoniously, right? Like jumping out of a plane or swallowing a time bomb or something. He wasn't anything worth a ceremony, though. Useless piece of shit. We're just doing the world a favor..."  
"He's dead. He's actually dead. And we killed him." Mac outburst, staring down the chest.  
"Hey, calm down, alright? You're not your usual self today."  
"No shit, bro."  
"Listen, in less than 8 hours, he'll be floating under the bridge."  
Mac rushed across the room to the chest and jiggled the rusty lock.

"It's not even locked, bro!"  
"Even better," Dennis responded suavely. "More danger." He smiled. "Shitty lock, anyways. Just pop in a bobby pin or two and boom, skeleton!"  
"I don't think bodies decompose that quickly but... oh, God, I don't know enough about corpses to dispute it. I wish we had killed someone else."  
"Well, I mean, it's kind of late for that. Anyways, who possibly could have been better?"  
"Oh, dude, I don't know. Anyone's just as good or as bad as anyone else." He paused and looked at Dennis. "Like you, maybe. I've always been scared of you. Ever since I met you in high school. A part of your "charm", or whatever, I guess." A pause of hesitation came upon him. "Ugh, I'm sorry, Den, it's just... I can't take this shit as well as you can."  
"Pretty dumb of you to try and turn on me, isn't it?"  
"Yeah, whatever, man. I want a drink."  
Dennis paused. His eyes lingered on Mac for a moment before responding.

"Sure, sure. You want some champagne?"  
"Champagne, dude? That's fancy. Yeah, whatever, I'll have that."  
"Alright. I got it when we were out earlier. For the party."  
"Right. The party."

Mac stood awkwardly by the door frame as Dennis got the champagne bottle from the kitchen. He stood by Mac, clutching the bottle in his hands, looking at the chest.  
"Murder can be an art too, Mac. It's just as satisfying as the power to create." He turned to him. "Do you realize we actually did it? It all went just as planned, too." He exhaled. "God, it was perfect."  
"Yeah. I- yeah." Mac couldn't imitate Dennis' enthusiasm if he tried.  
"And without reason, too. Just for the sake of danger and for the sake of pure justice." Dennis raised his eyebrows. "That bitch is dead, Mac. And we're alive. We're so wonderfully alive. Even some pretentious bullshit champagne doesn't live up to the occasion, or to us for that matter."  
"I still want the champagne."  
"Mac... I know it's kind of a big step, but you seriously gotta ease up, man. You can't show vulnerability in a situation like this. Neither of us can. That's the difference between us and everyone else. Everyone talks about getting revenge but they're too much of a pussy to actually do it. Nobody kills someone just for the sake of it."  
"Here," Mac took the champagne bottle from Dennis and popped it open.  
Mac carefully filled his glass, trying not to spill any on the floor. It would look like blood. God. There hadn't been any blood but if there had, it would never wash away.

"You're not scared anymore, are you?"  
"No." Mac filled his own glass, trying to maintain balance in the pitch of his voice.  
"Not even of me?"  
Mac looked up and into Dennis' eyes. "No."  
Dennis smiled. "That's good."  
"You just shock me. As always."  
"That's even better." Dennis raised his glass in a celebratory fashion. 

"To Luther McDonald."


	2. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole situation was so depraved. This is the kind of shit that Dennis lives for.  
> "I helped you get rid of that shit bag. Now it's my turn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie, Dee and the waitress arrive to the apartment with the corpse of Mac and Dennis' victim right under their noses. Will they find out? Even if they did, they probably wouldn't be all too surprised, but still...
> 
> The first chapter was short. We're starting to get more into the story now. I always appreciate criticism; even a simple "omg you're perfect and also marry me" will suffice. Thank you for reading! Enjoy ~*~

"How did you feel?" 

"When?"  
"During... it..." Mac trailed off hesitantly.  
Dennis was taken back. "Oh, well... I don't know, really. I don't remember feeling much of anything, y'know? Until..." He took a deep inhale. "Until his body went limp. And I knew it was over." His voice was lower and huskier than before. He breathed shakily and his body stiffened.  
"Are you seriously getting off on this right now?"  
"And then I felt... tremendously exhilarated." His words came out in the form of a faint sigh; a moan, even. He cocked his head to the side and inched his face closer to Mac's, failing to break eye contact. "How did you feel?" He whispered.  
Mac could feel his face turning bright red. "I... um... you don't think the party's a mistake, do you?" He dodged the question and picked nervously at his glass.  
This whole situation was so depraved. This is the kind of shit that Dennis lives for.  
"No, no! The party just adds to the thrill. Not having a party is like..."  
"Painting a picture and not hanging it?" Mac finished Dennis' sentence. It made sense. To Dennis, this was the most delicate form of art.  
"Well, I don't know if that's the best choice of words..."  
"I do. Thanks to the party. This could have been over with by now but you need to fulfill your weird fantasies or whatever."  
"I helped you get rid of that shit bag. Now it's my turn. Ah, I'm just so excited for the party, man! Your mom is literally a walking cigarette, but I had to invite her, you know? She is your dad's wife."

Under regular circumstances, Mac would've lashed out at Dennis, threatening to shove his thumbs through his eye sockets and pointing out that his mother is figuratively a walking cigarette, not a literal one, and that he loved her regardless. But now, he felt too small to even try and fight him.

"Don't worry, though. I can pair her up with the waitress. Maybe if we put their dull personalities together it will create one average personality. Oh, the waitress. She's coming for me, you know. I already completed the "Separate Entirely" step of the system with her a long time ago, but that dumb bitch is just OBSESSED, man. I'll probably lock her in a room with Charlie or something. To rev up the drama of the party. He wanted to do the "Move in After Completion" step this time. You already banged her anyways. Shit personality. Nice rack though...." Dennis trailed off from his blathering and saw some half-used candles of the kitchen counter.  
"Mac!" Dennis scampered over and grabbed the candles, along with a lighter from the utensil drawer. He plopped them on top of the chest and started to line them up towards the wall.

"What are you doing?"  
"Decorating."  
"Oh, man, come on. You're getting to artsy-fartsy with this whole thing, it's weird."  
"No, no, no... I just think it will be nice to have dinner in here instead of our drab kitchen, right?"  
"Well, nobody will try to open it, I guess..."  
"You don't appreciate me enough."  
"I appreciate you way too much, dude. Trust me."  
Dennis smirked and winked at Mac before glancing at his watch.  
"Oh, shit. Dee should be here soon."  
"Why is she helping us with the party anyways?"  
"Oh, who knows. She probably just wants to be a part of it, you know? She doesn't want to be left out of "the gang" or whatever. I don't know. Dumb bird."  
"How are you going to explain moving all of the food and stuff over here? She had it all set up in the kitchen already."  
"Tough shit." Dennis pointed to a pile of VCR tapes next to the chest. "Could you go put those on the dining room table and start moving the food over here?"  
"What are these for?"  
"You ask a lot of questions, you know that? They're some of my tapes. Frank wants them for reference."  
"Your sex tapes?"  
"No, they're shakeweight infomercials. Yes, they're sex tapes. You've seen them already, don't cry about it." Dennis' cell phone started blaring "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley in his pocket. He answered, "What? Okay. I don't care. Yeah. No. Yeah. No. Okay. You're a bird. Oh, man. Never gets old. Alright, fuck off. Bye."  
"Who is it?!"  
"It's Dee, man. Calm down. How many birds do we know?"  
"That joke is getting kind of old."  
"No it isn't."  
"Yeah, you're right." Mac was gathering the tapes when something caught his eye.

"DENNIS!"  
Dennis sprinted over to the chest. "What?!" He saw the rope, the weapon of choice, hanging out of the chest. "Dude, really? You scared me. Just yank it out."  
"I can't!"  
"I swear to God, Mac, you screaming like a little bitch is just as good as pleading guilty." He huffed and yanked the rope out effortlessly.  
"Okay, I get it, Dennis. You're perfect. You're a golden god and I'm just a tiny twink, okay?!"  
"It's just... we have to be perfect. The greatest crime we could commit is to fuck up. To be weak."  
"Or, like, killing my own FATHER, bro! Jesus fucking Christ! Being weak is just being human!"  
"Being weak is being ordinary. I won't let-"  
Dennis was cut off by three hard knocks, followed by incessant squawking. 

Dee barged into the apartment. "Hey, dick bag, I was trying to tell you something on the phone and you hung up on me! I was saying that-"  
"Hey, Dee," Mac interrupted, carrying the cheese plate to the chest. "Oh man, Dennis, do you really think the cheese was a good idea? Charlie's going to go nuts."  
"That's the plan."  
"H-hey, why are you moving the food? I had that shit all organized and everything!" Dee interjected.  
"Well, Frank's going to look at the tapes I'm lending him and they're more easily accessible over there, I guess... why do I have to explain things to you, anyways?"  
"Okay, well, the candles definitely look dumb as hell."  
"That's what I said," Mac agreed.  
"They help add to the mood of a ceremonial occasion, Dee. A sacrificial feast, if you will."  
"I won't. Get out of my way, I need to go powder my face and shit. Do I look heavyish to you? I feel heavyish."  
"Ostriches can weigh up to 320 pounds, Dee. You're getting there!" Dennis shouted before Dee slammed the bathroom door shut.  
Mac toddled over to Dennis worryingly. "What's wrong?" Dennis asked.  
"She'll notice the rope, dude! You've just been holding it the whole time!"  
"I don't think outside observers will look at a rope and go, "Oh shit, where's the body?" Calm down. I'll put it in the kitchen drawer."

"Hey, bitches, what's new?"  
"Dee! This is a champagne party. A formal affair. You look like shit."  
"You look like one those statues from Greece or Rome or whatever. The ones with the really tiny dicks." Dee chuckled at herself.  
"Shut up. Those dudes have flawless physiques."  
"Yeah, man. Total ancient beefcakes," Mac said and grinned for the first time all day.  
They heard a banging on the door.  
"They're here!" Dee tweeted cheerfully.  
"Well, answer it! What are you telling me for?"  
"Assholes," Dee muttered, and opened the door to see Charlie.

"Hey, Dee! Hey, guys!"  
"Charlie!" Dennis went to greet him. "What's up, man? How have you been?"  
"It hasn't been that long since we last saw each other..."  
"Oh, Charlie," Dennis slid his arm around Charlie's shoulders. "You're such a hoot."  
"A what? Is that like, an owl? Where's everyone else?"  
"You're the first, buddy!"  
"Oh, cool. So, is it someone's birthday, or...?"  
"No, it's... almost the opposite."  
"Uh, what?"  
"It's sort of a farewell. Mac and I are going away for a little bit, like a vacation."  
"Oh, yeah? Where?"  
"To New Jersey! Dennis will pretty much be, uh, locked up," Mac phrased.  
"What, dude? I'm so confused."  
"Yeah, I'll mostly be inside, probably... I said I'd never go back to that shit hole but Mac insisted."  
"Hey, Charlie, you want some champagne?" Dee asked, already filling a glass to the rim.  
"Sure. Ooh, fancy. I feel like I'm at a wedding or a funeral or something."  
"A funeral? Uh, okay. Well, we're kind of killing two birds with one stone with this party. It's also a coming back party for Mac's dad. He came back from Tijuana."  
"What? No! Dennis, that guy wants to kill me and eat my butt!"  
"I promise you he won't do that, Charlie," Mac said.  
"Okay, but when they put me in my coffin and I don't have a butt, it's your fault. Also, eventually he'll have another butt coming out of his butt. Like, how messed up is that? It's like butt-ception. Anyways... oh, who else is coming?"  
"The waitress, for one." Dennis said smugly.  
"Oh, man? Why did you invite her?!"  
"You don't want to see the waitress?"  
"Man, I don't know, I'm just starting to think she doesn't like me that much..."  
"Huh. Weird. Who knew?"  
"DENNIS! OPEN UP, SHITHEAD!"  
Dennis swung open the door to see none other than the waitress.  
"Jesus, you could have just knocked a couple times."  
"Dennis, you've treated me like shit my whole life and I demand an apology for it. You can't just psychologically degrade me like that and then invite me to a cute little party and think it's all okay! I..." The waitress trailed off at the sight of a certain admirer.  
"Hey..." Charlie waved gently at the waitress.  
The waitress sighed. "God. Hey, Mac. Charlie..."  
"Hey! You look, uh, quite lovely this evening, m'lady..."  
"M'lady? Oh my god, you're evolving. What, did you leave your fedora at home?"  
The waitress rolled her eyes and took a deep breath.  
"Hey, Dennis, is that painting on your wall new? The one in the other room?"  
"You've never been to our apartment before."  
The waitress yanked Dennis by his ear into his bedroom. "You asshole."  
"Ow, shit, that's my good ear!"  
"Your good ear? Are you deaf in the other one? Is that why you can't hear when girls say no?"  
"No, I just meant it's my better looking ear..."  
"You betrayed me."  
"What? How?"  
"Why did you invite Charlie?!"  
"What, you thought I wouldn't invite him for your sake? It's not all about you."  
"Why do I trust you?!"  
"You tell me. Hey, Charlie!"  
"No!"

"Hey, Dennis!" Charlie carried the cheese platter from the chest into the bedroom. "These cheeses are like, man, I don't even know, I'm in overdrive..."  
Dennis grinned, dashed out of the bedroom and shut the door. He leaned his back up against it and gripped the door frame. The waitress was already screaming and trying to shove it open. "DENNIS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! LET ME OUT!"  
"Mac, push the couch in front of this door, will you?"  
Mac set down his beer and helped Dennis barricade the door with the couch.  
"Why did you do that?" Mac asked only after the deed was done.  
"More drama. I don't know. It's like, a social experiment. I'll let them out eventually.  
Also, the waitress? Fuck, she's so annoying. She yanked on my good ear, man."  
"What? Is it okay?!" Mac expressed with genuine concern.  
"Uh, yeah. It's fine, dude. Thanks." Dennis rubbed Mac's shoulder. Mac looked down and twiddled his thumbs to hide his blushed cheeks. Dennis was a complete sociopath,  
but-  
"CHAHHHLIE, ARE YOU IN THERE? THERE'S CAT LITTER EVERYWHERE."  
"Jesus, why is everyone so fucking loud all the time in this group? If it's not banging, it's screaming. Someone should really hook these people up with some tranquilizers." Dennis removed his hand from Mac's shoulder to greet Frank and Charlie's mother, Bonnie Kelly. Mac cleared his throat, puffed out his chest and chugged down the rest of his beer.

This was going to be a long night.


	3. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac stood in shock in the middle of the room, blood rushing from both his hand and his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying out flashbacks with this fic to apply more insight to the motivation behind the murder. If anyone asks, I am great with continuity in my writing and I definitely do not abuse the use of adverbs or synonyms for "said". I always appreciate feedback!

[FLASHBACK]  
[MAC AND DENNIS' APARTMENT]  
[2:30 PM]

"You can't back out of this, Mac."  
"I know."  
Mac and Dennis sat together on the couch of their living room, Dennis' arm around Mac. Neither of them said anything.  
"I asked you if you were sure about this and you said yes. You said that he did nothing but hurt you. That he needed to be disposed of... are you remembering this?"  
"No, when did I say that?"  
"Come on. Don't make me say it."  
"Oh. I remember. I didn't say it, I agreed to it, so..."  
"It still applies."  
"My mind was... pretty clouded then..."  
"Yeah, yeah. I know. So, I'll call him over here then?"  
"What?! Now?!"  
"If not now, then when? We only have four hours from now to have him dead."  
"You're the one who put a time limit on things."  
"Oh, but doesn't that just add to the thrill?" Dennis said flamboyantly.  
"I don't want thrill, dude! I want closure. I think. I don't know what I want. What am I even getting out of this?"  
"Ha! Are you kidding? You're getting freed from the shackles of the abusive childhood that's held you back so much during your life! You get justice for all of the torment that you've endured! I'm doing all of this for you."  
"Come on. No, you're not. You're doing it for you. You're doing it for you because apparently you're a sadomasochistic necrophiliac who has nothing better to do."  
"Big words, Ronald McDonald. Did your daddy teach you those words?"  
"What? No. Maybe. And don't call me that."  
"Ah, right. Your dad named you that. I get it. But don't worry, because I'm your daddy now, baby." Dennis chuckled to himself as he dialed in Luther Mac's phone number.  
"That... don't say that. Ever. To anyone."  
"Okay it's ringing." Dennis lowered his voice. "And I'm going to say it... son."  
"See, that's just weird."  
"Hello! Mr. McDonald? Hi, this is Dennis Reynolds speaking. You remember me, right? I'm Mac's friend and roommate- no, not his boyfriend. Anything but that. Listen, we were wondering... Oh, yeah, he's right here. Did you want to talk to him? Sure, just a second..."  
Dennis shoved the phone into Mac's ear.  
"No- oh, hey, Dad..."

Dennis mouthed "our place" and held up the wine glass in his hand, making a sipping motion.  
"Dennis was just going to ask you if you would like to, uh, celebrate your return with some wine at our apartment... Yes, OUR apartment. You knew this already. 16, years, Dad. What, two straight dude friends can't crash together for a couple of decades?! You know what, never mind. Anyways, do you want to come over at about..."  
Dennis dramatically held up five fingers.  
"...Five? Oh, great! You know where we live, right? Where I live. Cool! See you then!" Mac hung up.  
"Asshole. I didn't want to talk to him."  
"At least the hard part is over."  
"That was the hard part?!"

Dennis shrugged and rubbed Mac's thigh. Mac flinched and grabbed a throw pillow to cover his crotch. Needless to say, that wasn't the only hard part.

[END OF FLASHBACK]  
[MAC AND DENNIS' APARTMENT]  
[7:00 PM]

"Hey, Frank. Try to be louder next time, could you? Please? For me?"  
"I'm not here for your queer bullshit, Dennis. Where's the vodka?"  
"Uh, where's Mac's mom? I told you to bring her."  
"Oh, Mrs. Mac wanted to come but she had a tummy ache, so I tucked her in for the night and came with Frankie instead!" Ms. Kelly responded cheerfully.  
"She's my hoor." Frank chimed in.  
"Right. Well, whatever. Hi, Mrs. Kelly. This might be better, actually. It's not like Mrs. Mac is that responsive anyways..."  
"Responsive of what?" Frank asked indifferently and gurgled whatever the hell he was drinking.  
"Nothing. Come in. Dee, take their coats already."  
"Okay, okay, I'm here, cockweed. Hi, Frank. Mrs. Kelly. Let me take your coats."  
Dennis gasped. "Dee?!"  
"What?"  
"You said cock instead of dick."  
"Oh my god."  
"I didn't take you for a cock kind of gal, Deandra," Frank inquired.  
"Lay off of the cock thing already! And this coat hanger thing is literally a foot away from you, you could have done it yourself."   
Dennis led Frank and Bonnie into the apartment. "I'm sorry for our maid. She's a little cranky tonight. She shall pay you retribution through hard labor, if you wish."  
"Oh, good. Charlie filled the whole apartment with cat litter and he won't clean it up."  
"Why did he... you don't have a... you know, it doesn't matter. I'll get her to fix that up for you."  
"Thank you, Dennis. I usually wouldn't mind the litter, you know, but you don't know what it's like until there's cat shit mixed in."  
"I don't know what it's like at all. In any context."  
"You don't know real struggle, Dennis!"  
"Well."

Bonnie wandered aimlessly around the apartment. "CHARLIE! CHARLIE!"  
"I'M IN HERE, MOM!"  
"CHARLIE! CHARLIE, SWEETIE, ARE YOU BEING HELD HOSTAGE?!"  
"NO, IT'S GREAT IN HERE, I'M FINE!"  
"I AM! I'M BEING HELD HOSTAGE! HELP ME!" The waitress screamed.  
"Oh, dear. Dennis, are they okay?"  
"Yeah, they're fine. I guess I'll let them out though. I don't really know why I put them in there. I just don't want to deal with the waitress right now. Mac, will you come help me move this couch?"  
Mac stared at his hand. There was blood oozing out of the folds of his palm. 

"...Mac?"  
"Uh, yeah, hold on..."  
He could distinctly feel a small shard of glass shifting around in his palm, among the other broken pieces of what used to be a wine glass cupped in his hands. He had held the glass as carefully as he could, but the tension in his knuckles begged to differ.   
"Shit, dude, what happened? Are you okay?"  
Mac looked up at Dennis, whose face was masked with concern. Artificial concern. He raised his eyebrows at Mac, expecting him to formulate a reasonable excuse. He knew what happened.   
"No, yeah, I, uh... I'm fine, it's just a small cut."  
"There is literally blood dripping on the floor."  
So much for spilling wine.

"The glass just... shattered in my hand. I-I don't know why. I'll go get a towel and help you."  
"With that hand? No, no, it's okay. Frank, come over here and help me."  
The waitress rattled desperately at the door handle while Dennis and Frank lazily lugged the couch out of the way. She leaped out of the room, grabbed Dennis by his shirt collar and slapped him square in the face.

"What the hell was that for?!"  
"For trapping me with this asshole!" She pointed behind her at Charlie, who was standing timidly by the door. "Hi."  
"AND for using the D.E.N.N.I.S system on me, according to Charlie. What the hell is that, Dennis? Were you just using me for sex?"  
"Obviously."  
"Ugh, you're such an asshole! You know what, Charlie told me you've been acting strange all week."  
"Yeah, man, you and Mac both been lurking around and you've been super tired all the time, and you're always talking to Mac in private and whispering to him and stuff..." Charlie added.   
"Oh, my god. You're banging Mac, aren't you?!" The waitress said loudly enough for everyone in the apartment to hear her loud and clear, including Mac. His fist gripped the towel in his hand, driving the glass shards further into his palm.

"NO. No. I am NOT." Dennis asserted.  
"Oh, really, Dennis? Really? Well if you two haven't been pounding each other's asses then WHAT the HELL IS going on? Tell me. Tell me right now."  
Everyone stood in silence, awaiting Dennis' answer.  
"Why would it concern you?"  
"Considering I've been with both of you, I'd like to know. I don't want to contract anything, especially from you."  
"Oh, yeah. You have been with both of us. Frank too. Wow, you really are a whore."  
The waitress slapped Dennis a second time.  
"Shit!"  
"I mean, you owe me at least that much, don't you? After using me purely for sex and then abandoning me. After locking me in a bedroom with my stalker."  
Charlie raised a finger. "I think you mean your admirer..."  
"No, Charlie. My stalker, you fucking psycho." The waitress refocused her attention on Dennis. "After probably raping dozens of girls over the past few years. You've been filed for sexual assault more times than Charlie can count, he said."  
"God, how much did Charlie tell you in there? Besides, he can't count that well, so that's not really a valid argumen-"  
"After being a misogynistic sociopath your entire life! After-"  
Dennis couldn't take another word.  
"God damn it! Okay, fine! Mac and I are banging!" He yelled.  
A collective gasp echoed from the guests. Mac didn't dare make a sound.

"Okay? Yeah. We've been "plowing ass," alright? You win! Yay! Are you happy now?"  
"What? Really? How long has this been going on for?!"  
"Oh, years. In fact, we were both cheating on you with each other. No condoms either. I'm sure you're just CRAWLING with STDs. I'd give up on survival now if I were you, Waitress."  
"Do you even know my name?!"  
"I gave you what you wanted. Get out of my sight."  
The waitress gave Dennis a disgusted grunt and walked off as the audience continued to mumble among each other.  
Mac stood in shock in the middle of the room, blood rushing from both his hand and his head.  
That clearly wasn't the reason that the two of them had been acting so weird for the past week, he thought. 

But it wasn't untrue either.


	4. The Opposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected guest makes his arrival just as Mac and Dennis have revealed the extent of their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this hasn't been updated in a while. Decided I'd get it back on a roll since Season 10 is just around the corner. This is a very smutty chapter. Happy New Year!

Mac could feel the fingernail scratches that traced all up and down his back. He could feel the "love" bruises scattered across his hipbones and inner thighs, but he could also feel the pounding in his head that he felt the next morning, when Dennis went back to calling him "dude" and "bro" and denying that anything every happened between them. He could feel the bite marks on his neck and collarbones that appeared barely 4 hours later in the back of the bar. This was the first time he had heard Dennis acknowledge these occurrences. Even though, as Mac knew, in his mind it was just another lie to cover up something bigger; That "something bigger" being the murder. Right?

[THE DAY BEFORE]

Mac's shoulder blades dug further into the wooden desk with every thrust.

His head was leaning back over the edge of the desk as Dennis Reynolds, buried his gross sweaty face into the nape of his neck, biting and sucking at his collarbone, then his jaw, then finally moving up to his lower lip. Mac was scratching desperately at Dennis' back and tightened the grip of his thighs around his waist as they violently shook the entire desk, afraid that it could collapse underneath their intertwined bodies at any moment. Mac elicited unfiltered winces, moans, gasps, into Dennis' open mouth as Dennis gripped the edge of the desk and pounded harder and harder into him. Mac fisted his hands into Dennis' hair as he crept closer to the climax. What began as faint, hesitant grunts caused by gentle touches and kisses up and down the length of his body, became loud, desperate moaning and gasping for even the slightest breath of air as Dennis' length slammed repeatedly into his g-spot, sending shock waves through every inch of his body. He tried to choke out Dennis' name through rattled moans and gasps. His neck snapped back and his toes curled as ecstasy poured out of him. 

Whenever Mac had sex with a woman, his thoughts always seemed to be clear. He knew this because he'd repeat over and over in his head, "Yeah, I'm banging a woman right now and I'm loving it. God, I'm so macho and straight. I'm a pussy destroyer," or... something like that. But not now. The only reason he wasn't repeating "Oh my god, I'm having sex with a man" was because he couldn't think at all. His jaw was wide open, blood was rushing to his head, sweat moving along his forehead; By god, he couldn't even formulate a full sentence. He heard the sound of his own submissive cries through the ringing in his ears. he could just lay there, digging his nails into Dennis and getting as much air as he could, letting a single thought formulate in his mind; It hurt, but he liked the pain. He liked being manipulated like this. Their relationship is soon going to have a body count.

With that thought, he came harder than he ever had before.

God. God, he loves this. He loves this so much more than she should and there's a thought lingering in the back of his subconscious that he's going to urn in hell for all this but right now, nothing else existed outside of that room.

Mac was most vulnerable when he was lying naked across the desk in the back office of Paddy's Pub, covered in cum and sweat. Naturally.

Dennis knew this. Mac's vision blurred as he roughly grabbed his jaw and tilted it u to his level. "Now, I want you to tell me again; what good has your father ever done for you?"

Mac's head was spinning. He felt as if he was on the verge of passing out. He couldn't formulate a sentence, let alone argue face-to-face with the guy who probably just literally fucked his brains out.

"N-Nothing..."  
"Good. Your dad's never done anything for you. So we don't need him anymore, right?"  
"...Right..."  
"Very good. Tell me, where would you be without me?"  
"...Nowhere."  
"Good boy... and more importantly, who would you be?"  
"Nobody."  
"That's right." Dennis kissed Mac hard enough to force the back of his head onto the desk.  
"Mmph!"  
"Shhh..." Dennis backed up just enough so that his lips were still brushing lightly against Mac's."

"You're mine."

Mac almost came again.

Just two hours later, Mac returned to the bar after trying desperately to get Dennis' scent off of him. He had woken up, alone, in the back office (He must've blacked out) showered and used some shitty Walmart-brand foundation to try and cover up the bite marks and bruises that ran from his chest up to his mouth. He walked with a limp into Paddy's Pub.

"Hey, bro," Dennis said casually from behind the bar, with scratch marks running up from his biceps to his beck. "Want a beer?"

[END OF FLASHBACK]

Ms. Kelly crept up to the waitress, who was drinking directly from a half-empty wine bottle in the corner of the room. "Is it true that you're going to marry my little Charlie?"  
"Oh. My. God."

Frank sprawled out on the couch, his dress shirt half-unbuttoned and the other wine bottle clutched in his own hand. "This party is boring as SHIT."  
"Did you not hear my grand announcement? I thought that was pretty exciting," Dennis boasted.  
"Eh, I'm just glad Mac can't preach about how the gays are gonna get deported anymore."  
"What? I never said they'd be deported, you drunk rotisserie chicken!"  
"Yep." Frank belched. "Deported straight to hell."  
"Do you even know what deportation means? I don't think you know what deportation means. And besides, I never said they AREN'T still going to hell."  
"Well, if they are you're going straight with them."  
"No, I'm not."  
"Ha!" Frank laughed. "What are you... a V.I.P gay? You're not a... a V.I.G. A very important gay. Anderson Cooper is a V.I.G. You're just- you're just a trash twink."  
Mac exploded. 

"I'm not a trash twink! I'll kick your ass! I'm a muscle MONSTER, jackass! I could karate chop your whole body in half!"  
"You're still on the karate thing? I thought after you finally admitted to your flaming homosexuality you would realize that you can't do karate for shit either!"  
"I never admitted to anything!" Mac's pitched raised as he paced back and forth. "I never admitted to ANYTHING! I CAN DO KARATE! IF I CAN'T DO KARATE THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"  
Mac stopped pacing and did a weak 180-jump, some vague arm movements and kicked the air.  
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! THAT WAS BLACK BELT KARATE, BITCH!"  
Ms. Kelly intervened, adjusting her attention away from The Drunk Waitress. "Oh, those were wonderful arm movements! Can you really karate chop things?"  
Mac puffed his chest out. "Yeah, of course I can. I karate chopped like, three bricks once. I can't do it RIGHT now, though, because my hand hurts just a little bit from all the hardcore pounding I've been doing."  
"Bet your ass hurts from the hardcore pounding, too," Frank slurred, crudely thrusting his finger in and out of the rim of the now-empty wine bottle in his hand.  
"Wow, that's amazing." Bonnie smiled, ignoring Frank. "I bet your hands will make you famous one day."  
Mac looked down at his clenched fists, then to the chest sitting innocently on the other side of the room. They'd sure bring him fame, alright.

The waitress backed out of the corner that she'd been hunched over in and stumbled into Dennis.  
"Watch your feet, bitch."  
"Can..." The waitress hiccuped violently and dropped her wine bottle on the floor. "Can I use a phone?"  
"You didn't bring one?"  
"No... I did-I didn't want it to be stolen."  
"Ugh. Use the one in my room."  
"There's one in your room?! I could've called 911 on you for hold-holding me HOSTAGE-" The waitress dry-heaved. "Ok... and can I have some more wine, maybe? Yes? No?"  
"All of the champagne we had for the party seems to be gone now because of you and Frank, but I have some shitty red wine in the cupboard."  
"Ah! Perfect." The waitress hunched over and crawled into Dennis' room.  
Charlie looked at the waitress and turned to Dennis. "Is she okay, dude?"  
"She's fine. And if she's not... well, what are you gonna do?" Dennis shrugged at a visibly shocked Charlie.  
"Oh, hey, and could you get the boxed wine out of that cupboard in the kitchen and take it in to the waitress?"  
"Yes." Charlie left immediately. 

It was a shitty party, of course, but it was a good one at the same time. The whole gang was there, just hanging out together, enjoying each other's company. There was no mischievous scheme going on. Well, other than the dead body in the chest. 

Everyone was there. And yet, another bang on the door.

"What? Who the hell is that?" Dennis opened the door to The Lawyer, who looked as gloriously pissed off as ever.  
The Lawyer looked at his obnoxiously thick gold watch, fisted his hands into the pockets of his suit and strode into the room to get a good look at the gang.  
"What a pleasure."  
"What are you doing here?"  
"I got a phone call. My girlfriend said that you've been harassing her and she wanted me to pick her up."  
"Your girlfriend? What-oh, the waitress. Wow. She really is a whore. Yeah, she's in that bedroom over there."  
"The waitress? Who's the waitress?"  
The waitress crawled back out of Dennis' bedroom and the lawyer lifted her to her feet. "Darling! Are you alright?"  
"Yeah, I'm... huh, I'm fine, you know? I'm like... fine..."  
Before they could even reach the door, Charlie emerged from Dennis' bedroom.

"Lawyer!" He exclaimed. "I have beef with you, man!"  
"I- What? Why?"  
"You, challenging my hard-earned knowledge in the art of bird law? Nonetheless, my very intelligence? Well, good sir, we meet again, and I can confidently say that I DO in fact know what filibuster means, and so once again I shall present the preposition; a duel, in the mechanics of BIRD LAW!"  
Charlie pumped his fist in the air and made a "dun-dun-dunn" sound effect.  
"Um, well... thank you for the offer, Charlie, really, but we really must be going."  
Dennis interjected. "No, no, no, you should stay, man! We have wine, we have some cheese left... we have chicken!" Dennis gestured to the chicken presented on mismatched plates atop of the chest. "Would you like a leg or a breast? We have both in- ON this chest here."  
His tone has certainly changed, Mac thought. What a weird guy.  
"Alright, alright. I guess I could stay a while. I haven't had dinner yet, so..."  
The lawyer dropped the waitress on the couch next to Frank. She groaned, half-conscious, and rolled onto the floor. The lawyer stepped over her to approach Charlie.  
"You know what? I think I will take you up on that duel."  
"Oh, yeah? Well, in that case, my good sir, we shall duel! If I win, I get the waitress."

"Deal." He looked over at the waitress, who was groaning and rolling around on the floor. "Definitely a deal. If I win, though, I get..."

The lawyer looked around the room for something of worth. Of course, there wasn't much to choose from. The room varied in shades of murky brown. It had some small, shitty paintings scattered randomly along the walls, some wooden chairs and a small table in the kitchen that didn't look all too stable, and a couple of ripped up faux-leather couches.  
But then he spotted his prize. It was a dark maroon color, had an intricately colorful jewel pattern on the front of it and a gold lining that ran along the corners. It stood out significantly from the rest of the drab decor in the room, and looked like it could be worth some serious bucks, too. God knows how Mac and Dennis could've possibly afforded it, considering their financial and legal skills, or rather their lack thereof. The thing that stood out the most to him was the huge, rusted gold lock hanging loosely on the front of it. 

"I get that chest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *MISTAKE: I realize that Dennis clearly points the chest out to the Lawyer and then right after that he "discovers" the chest as if he didn't just see it 10 seconds before. Just letting you know that I caught that and just I'm too lazy to fix it. Thanks. :)
> 
> -Anna


End file.
